


Johnlock Dialogue Prompt

by lemoncellbros



Series: Macaw's Works [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Oneshot, dialogue prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 21:47:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoncellbros/pseuds/lemoncellbros
Summary: Johnlock oneshot based off dialogue prompt, "Lord give me patience or an untraceable handgun."





	Johnlock Dialogue Prompt

Dr. John Watson, Captain in the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers and renowned surgeon, was seriously coming to question his limits. He was sat in his chair in 221B Baker Street, straight across from Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes. 

Mycroft and Sherlock were arguing about lord knows what, something that started as planning for John and Sherlock’s wedding but had turned into a battle of wits. John sat with his head in hands, groaning loudly at the pissing match that was happening before him. His groans got steadily louder for the next ten minutes of arguing, but they never once disturbed the bickering brothers.

John finally had to put a stop to their fighting when Sherlock pulled out his gun and Mycroft unsheathed a knife from his umbrella. The moment John saw the glock come out of Sherlock’s coat pocket, John shot bolt upright and pointed one finger at both of the brothers.

“No, no! Put the weapons down! Sherlock, go sit over ther- don’t you argue with me, I’m not the one who just drew my gun because my brother doesn’t agree that there’s a difference between violet and fuchsia!”

John stuffed the glock in his pocket and turned on Mycroft, grabbing his umbrella out of his hands.

“And YOU, go sit in the kitchen and think about how the supposed powerhouse of the British government can’t wrap his head around the concept of planets having a gravitational pole!”

Mycroft mumbled something about dumb doctors, but made his way to the kitchen nonetheless. John collapsed back into his chair, rubbing his face with his hands. 

“Lord, give me some patience or an untraceable gun,” was John’s final thought before Sherlock jumped back up and began reciting findings from a study on human’s perceptions of color palettes.


End file.
